Simplicity
by Duchess
Summary: After Hogwarts, Hermione and Ron are married, though things aren't as perfect as they could be. Romance with a 3rd party to come. Rating for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

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**Author's Notes:** Draco will eventually become a part of this, most likely the NC-17 part, and it will be a Draco/Hermione pairing, however, preliminaries and backgrounds must be set, first. Although this isn't my first fanfic, it is certainly the first I've ever posted, here, so please read, review and enjoy.

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Hermione sat at her dressing table expertly applying pale make-up to the bruised area around her left eye, with a wince. Setting down the bottle of foundation, she frowned at her reflection and lightly palpitated the dark spots. Not as bad as it could be, she thought, At least he didn't break open the skin, this time. She sighed and stood, carefully, the extra weight of her now rather prominent tummy getting in her way, as usual. Mentally, as well as physically, exhausted, she stretched out on her bed, curling up to take a nap. Which she would have done, had the phone not decided to ring when it did. Wearily, she glared at it, willing whomever it was to hang up, but finally fumbled for the receiver on the 5th ring.

"Hello…?" she answered, tiredly.

"Hermione? It's Ginny.. " Her best friend's voice held a small amount of worry. "Where were you, last night, we waited for you…"

"Um.." She struggled to find a plausible excuse. "Ron and I talked about it, and he'd rather I didn't go out so much, right now…" That was true enough. It _was_ what they'd fought about. Ginny made a sound close to a disgusted snort.

"You're pregnant, not an invalid. You can still come out with us and have a little fun," she said. Hermione sighed, again. Her eye hurt, her stomach was twisting, and she was starting to get a massive headache.

"Ginny, I have to go. I don't feel all that well, I need to take a nap." There was a stony silence on the other end of the line, for a moment. Then…

"It happened, again, didn't it, Hermione." Ginny's tone made quite clear that this was a statement, not a question.

"Nothing happened, I'm just tired, that's all." There must have been a quiver in her voice, because Ginny immediately insisted on coming over and, before Hermione could protest, had hung up the phone. Hermione replaced the receiver on the phone base and lay back, resting her arm over her eyes. After what felt like only a minute or two, she heard a sharp rap on her door. She sat up, assuming she must have fallen asleep and rubbed her eyes to clear the sleep from them, sliding off the edge of the bed to pad towards her front door. After taking a quick look through the peephole, she opened the door to admit her extremely concerned looking friend, who hugged her, quickly.

"Hermione.." Ginny spoke softly, "You can't keep letting him do this.. " Hermione frowned and pulled away, mutely, moving to sit on one end of the couch, eyes downcast.

"…he doesn't mean to…" Hermione whispered, "..it's my fault… if I weren't so argumentative all the time-"

"Is _that_ what he tells you?" The normally sweet voice of her best friend was replaced by a bitterness Hermione'd heard before, when they discussed this particular topic. "He used to call you spirited… now it's argumentative?"

"Ginny, please…" Hermione's voice was pleading. "Please don't make something more out of it then it is… he loves me and he swore he'd never do it again-"

"Like the last three times he swore he'd never do it again?" Ginny interrupted. Hermione continued on as though she hadn't heard her.

"And he's doing much better, now, especially since I got pregnant…" Ginny sat down next to Hermione and rested her hands on the other girl's shoulders.

"Hermione, you have to promise me that if he hits you, again, you'll call me, so I can come get you." Ginny's eyes were darkly serious.

"Ginny, he-"

"Promise."

"But he's-"

"Promise."

"Ginny, it isn't-"

"Hermione. Promise." Hermione's shoulders sagged and she nodded her agreement.

Sometime later, after Ginny had left, and dinner was well into being prepared, Hermione sat at the kitchen counter, sipping some hot tea and waiting for her husband to return from work. She involuntarily tensed when she heard a key in the lock, the door swinging open a moment later to admit a tall red-haired man sporting dark sunglasses. She offered him a weak smile as he slipped over to her, setting a bouquet of large red roses in her lap and kissing her cheek, gently.

"I'm sorry, love.." he whispered, softly, near her ear. She smiled a bit wider and kissed his cheek, in return. She knew everything would work out.

"It's alright…" she answered, quietly. She then stood, setting about putting the flowers in a vase and finishing their dinner. The meal passed without incident, Ron telling her about his day, nonchalantly, as though he wasn't speaking to the pregnant woman he'd hit the night before…

Afterwards, once Hermione had finished cleaning up the kitchen and was settled into bed with a cup of her favorite tea and a book, Ron approached the bed from their closet, looking a bit agitated.

"Hermione, where's my dark gray shirt?" he asked.

"You had me send it to the dry cleaners, remember?" Just two days ago he'd gotten on her case for not taking the items earlier then she had.

"It should be ready, by now, didn't you go pick it up, today?" His voice had taken on a slightly menacing tone that made her fidgety.

"Um.. well, I… didn't have time… I overslept, this morning…" She didn't add that the reason she'd done so was because she'd been up crying half the night. "I can go pick them up first thing in the morning, before your meeting, if you want… " Her own voice turned partially pleading.

"Hermione, the meeting is at 7 am! I told you about this, weeks ago, how important this was! I told you I needed _that_ shirt for _this_ meeting!" With each angry word he was advancing on the bed. Hermione shrunk away, towards the wall, nervously, and already starting to tremble, lightly.

"I.. I'm sorry.." her voice was a mere whisper, "I.. you could.. wear a different shirt…?"

"The only other shirt I have that I could wear matches a pair of pants that you sent to the cleaners _with that shirt_!" He suddenly lunged forward and grabbed her upper arm, hauling her up to eye level with him, ignoring her soft gasp of pain.

"Ron, please…" She twisted her arm, weakly, in an attempt to get him to let her go, but he held her fast, working on unbuckling his belt at the same time. Her eyes widened when the belt zipped out of the belt-loops and up over his head.

"Why do you make me do this to you, huh...?" was the last thing she heard before the belt came down, hard, on her upper back, and she squeezed her eyes shut, tightly, letting out a short yelp of pain, struggling to get free of his grip. But it was firm, and her cries of pain became helpless whimpers as the belt descended over and over, again, on her back, legs, backside, and thighs. When he finally released her, she dropped to the bed in a heap, her whole body feeling as though it were on fire. She lay there, crying, softly, curled up into a tiny ball with her arms over her stomach, protectively. Ron said something that she couldn't make out and then slammed out of the house. Desperately trying to catch her breath around the pain and the sobs racking her small frame, she pulled herself up in to a sitting position, with a wince. When she could move without feeling as though the entire back half of her would burst into flames, she gingerly picked up the phone and dialed the number she knew by heart.

"Ginny….?"

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**Author's Notes:** If you enjoyed this and would like more, please let me know.

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	2. Chapter 2

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**Author's Notes:** I'd like to start by apologizing to everyone out there who read and enjoyed my story and have been waiting to read more. If this is your first read, thank you, if it isn't, thank you for being patient with me.

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Harry was angry. No, angry was too tepid a word, he was furious. He and his wife of nearly 4 years, Ginny, stood, listening to the doctor tick off the number of bruised ribs Hermione had and how long it would take for her to recover from those and her other various other belt inflicted wounds. Ginny listened with a worried crease between her brows, but Harry looked ready to kill. Ginny was nodding as one of the muggle policemen, who had also been called, asked if she thought she could get Hermione to fill out a police report so they could, hopefully, keep this from happening, again. Harry grimaced, and his brow furrowed, doubtfully. Hermione wouldn't do it. She never would. When Ron had broken her wrist because she'd spilled some of his favorite cologne on the floor, she hadn't filled one out. When he'd bruised her jaw so badly that she hadn't been able to talk for nearly a week, all because dinner had been late one night, she hadn't filled one out. And even when he'd forbidden her to continue her dearly loved position at the ministry, due to the fact that it interfered with her duty to him as a good housewife, and had followed that heated discussion with a severe cuff to the head that put her unconscious for several hours, she'd STILL refused to do anything about it.

He shook his head and glanced in the room to their left, at the figure curled up on the hospital bed. Hermione had been nearly hysterical when Harry had insisted on calling both an ambulance as well as the police when he and Ginny had apparated there, only minutes after her phone call to her best friend. She'd been so adamant about not wanting be touched or moved that the paramedics had ended up giving her a mild sedative to calm her before being able to treat her.

She was silent, now, lying on her side, staring, blankly, out the window in front of her. Harry could not recall a time when she had seemed to small and helpless. Ginny finished talking with the doctor and strode into Hermione's hospital room, Harry close on her heels. Hermione didn't move when the edge of the bed dipped as Ginny sat down next to her, nor did she stir when her hand was taken and squeezed, gently.

"Hermione …?" Ginny said, quietly. Hermione turned her gaze to Ginny, listlessly. "Hermione, the police want you to fill out a report…" Hermione had tensed even before Ginny had finished the sentence, but she continued on, anyway. "They can use the police report and the hospital records to get a restraining order against him…." Silence. "Hermione, are you _listening_ to me…? They can keep him away from you…" Hermione looked away from her and back out the window, again.

Ginny and Harry exchanged a glance. Then Harry sighed. He'd said nothing, yet and he wasn't sure how to start. When Ginny had first come to him, suspecting what was going on in her older brother's household, Harry had been more than skeptical. Bold, headstrong Hermione? Fun-loving, teasing Ron? It wasn't possible that he could be treating her with anything but love. However, the first time Harry had heard Hermione attempt to explain away the bruises on her cheek and forehead as the product of a fall, he'd known that his wife's suspicions were correct. His own anger over the situation was impossible to convey. He could not fathom what went through Ron's head when he first began this treatment, and he could no better place the thoughts of Hermione when she accepted it as her due. Now, trying to control his confusing emotions, he took a place next to Ginny on Hermione's hospital bed and covered his wife's hand with his own over the other girl's.

"Hermione. Ginny and I have talked about this, and we've decided that you're going to come and stay with us, when they release you. No, don't even bother protesting," He interjected as she immediately began shaking her head in denial. "We've already set up the guest room for you. Ginny and I absolutely insist." His tone brooked no disobedience, and suddenly it became softer and more pleading. "'Mione, you can't go back. If you do, you aren't just jeopardizing your own life; you're also risking the life of your baby." The eyes that gazed at him now were moist with unshed tears that still refused to fall, but she nodded, almost imperceptibly, then returned her gaze to where it had been before she spoke for the first time since she'd been checked in.

"How long?" Her voice was merely a whisper and it echoed off the sterile white walls of the single room she'd been placed in. Harry's glance slid to Ginny before he answered.

"3 or 4… ah... 4 days, probably…"

"They think I'm suicidal?" The question came out bitterly and Ginny felt the need to tread, carefully.

"Herm, you were… ah…a little…"

"Hysterical… oof!" Ginny elbowed her husband in the ribs, sharply, for his contribution.

"Obstinate…" Ginny corrected, gently, "When they brought you in, earlier… They decided that maybe a psych consul would be the best thing at this point, before they release you…"

"I see." Her tone was unconcerned and even a little amused, though one would not have been able to derive this from her facial expression. Before much else could be said, a tall, no-nonsense-looking nurse had entered the room and informed two of its three occupants that visiting hours were over and that the patient would need her rest. Harry kissed Hermione's cheek and Ginny attempted a light hug before the nurse shooed them out, impatiently. Hermione shifted, slightly, and closed her eyes, drifting off to a dreamless sleep.

The resident psychiatrist lifted the brand spanking new case file from his desk and scanned it, briefly, as he depressed the tiny play button on the side of the small recorder.

"Patient is a 28-year-old female, admitted after a domestic disturbance with her spouse occurred at her residence, late this evening. Patient displays recalcitrant conduct and a refusal to accept the behavior of her spouse as abusive. Possibly suicidal, although more likely a case of simple obstinacy." One finger clicked and held the pause button, however, it was immediately released.

"Side note: patient is 8 months pregnant and of the magical community. Husband works for the Ministry." He pressed the stop button and set the device down on his desk, taking up the case file to stare at it, as though the answers would appear on its manila cover.

Dr. Draco Malfoy sighed, shaking his head, and, after dropping the ever-silent file, rested both elbows on his desk, and his head on his laced together fingers.

"Hermione Weasley."

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**Author's Notes:** If you enjoyed this and would like more, please let me know. More soon! I hope…

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	3. Chapter 3

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**Author's Notes:** I apologize, profusely, to all of you who actually cared enough to keep checking up on my story to see if I would ever update it. I've been pretty busy, lately, but now that I have more free time, I'm going to do my best to get this story rolling.

Thanks to **roxychocolate**, here's more for you; **Everbay**, thank you for the compliments; **Anonymous**, don't worry, Ron will get everything that's coming to him; **LUvINg** **EmIn3M** & **Mourant Flamme**, thank you for the second reviews and **morganna**, thanks and here's the next chapter!

I'm sorry, again, for how long this took, but here it is!

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Hermione lay curled on her side, staring listlessly out of the metal-framed hospital window, watching the gardeners trim and clip at the hedges just outside. The night had been a long one and she'd only been able to pull small snatches of sleep between long hours of unwavering silence. Pain hadn't kept her awake; they'd been giving her Tylenol with codeine so her injuries hardly made themselves known so long as she didn't move often, and the quiet of the private room she'd been given should have been fairly conducive to sleep, but something was still amiss. Ron was missing. Even with the pain and anger of this most recent 'incident' fresh in her memory, she still missed him. In the face of everything that had happened during their last few years of school, their mutual decision to marry soon after graduation had been met with no resistance from anyone they were close to. In truth, this was one of the first times in her life that Hermione could recall when she couldn't expect Ron to be around for her since she'd first come to Hogwarts, and that was something that she loved about him; his steadfast presence though everything they'd been through over the years. Alright, it was time to stop thinking about this, or she'd cry, again. Normally, she'd already have a headache from the amount of crying she had already done, but the codeine effectively took care of _that_ for her. Thank Merlin for small favors, she thought with a smile.

That was how Draco found her. Standing in the doorway directly opposite the window, clutching a thin clipboard and Hermione's file under one arm, Dr. Malfoy observed his newest patient with both the eyes of a psychiatrist and those of a former acquaintance. Other than slightly longer hair and the rounded belly, Hermione looked very much the same as she had the last day he'd seen her; the day he'd sat 18 chairs and 2 rows back from her at the graduation ceremony. The longer hair definitely suited her, he thought, since the weight of it now pulled some of the frizz out of it, but left a bit of the curl. Of course, he thought with a slight smirk, it would probably look better were it not in a tangled mess spread out en masse on the sanitary white pillows. The smirk faded as the professional side of him took over, noting the purpling bruises barely visible above the folded over section of the blue hospital blankets where the gown the institution had provided for her lay parted several inches at her back. The view of them, as well as a slight stirring from his patient, brought him back to reality. Regardless of his personal feelings for one of the people that had practically ruined what should have been the best years of his childhood, he had a job to do.

Stepping forward, he rapped one thin, pale hand against the open door of her room in an effort to announce his arrival.

"Mrs. Weasley?"

The deep voice from the doorway immediately caused Hermione to turn in that direction, which in turn caused the bruises on her lower back to twinge. With a wince, she readjusted herself, carefully turning to rest on the opposite side of her body, since reclining on her back wasn't an option. Once she'd finally gotten herself settled, she glanced up… and nearly had an apoplexy.

"What're _you_ doing here?" she asked, no small amount of surprise (or was that contempt?) in her tone.

Draco tsked at her as he scraped the visitor's chair from next to the door to the side of her bed and sat, resting both the file and his clipboard on his lap.

"Is that any way to speak to your court-appointed psychiatrist?" A slight smirk accompanied his sarcastic remark. This was going to be fun.

"My _what_…?" Whether Hermione was surprised because she had a psychiatrist or if it was just _him_ that was the surprise was anyone's guess.

"Apparently, someone thought you might need a little help with what happened." The smirk had left Draco's face leaving only the professional, now.

Hermione stifled the urge to roll her eyes; if Draco Malfoy was the only thing between her and getting out of here, she needed to tread, carefully.

"Help with what, exactly?" she asked, carefully. No sense in giving him more information than he needed, after all, right?

Draco was far too experienced as a psychiatrist to fall for that.

"You tell me," was his reply. Damn. No help, there. "Why don't you start by telling me how this all happened?" Hermione hadn't even noticed until now that he already had the clipboard out on his lap, pen ready to write whatever he felt needed to be recorded.

"How _what_ all happened?" Draco sighed. She was obviously a master at this. He noted her diversionary tactics on his note sheet and sat forward, crossing his arms over his knee.

"The bruises are readily visible, Mrs. Weasley. How do you propose to explain how they got there? A bad fall down the stairs? Hit in the back with a door?" The gentle tone didn't diminish the hard words a single iota.

"What do you mean, 'they're visible'…? How did _you_ see them…?" Again, the will to discuss anything but the true course of the matter. For the moment, he allowed the dissention; getting her talking, about anything, would facilitate the process.

"The stunningly stylish hospital gown they gave you is parted in the back, remember?" Draco tried to suppress a smile as Hermione flushed with both embarrassment and anger, pulling the blankets a bit higher around her, self-consciously. When she spoke, again, her tone was sulky.

"Ginny's bringing me something of my own to wear, later."

Draco did smile this time as he offered in a somewhat teasing manner, "Red and gold, I presume?" That pricked her anger and, for the first time since he'd been speaking to her, Draco finally saw a bit of the old Hermione return in her reply.

"Not all of us felt the need to carry the obsession with our houses into our adult life, you know." As she tossed out the sarcastic remark, she gestured to Draco's clothing and he cursed under his breath. Of all the ensembles in his wardrobe, why in Merlin's name had he chosen to wear the gray slacks and matching green button-up, today? He might just as well have worn his old school robe with the insignia right on it. Draco was just annoyed enough to decide to step into full business mode.

"Mrs. Weasley, something occurred, last evening, that had you brought here, in an ambulance with welts on your back, legs and buttocks that the emergency doctors determined were belt inflicted. You also have bruising on your left upper arm in the shape of fingers and welts that carry further onto your right side than on the left, indicating that someone held you in place with their left hand and hit you with a belt with their right. The belt was an inch, to an inch and a half in width and made of a heavy material, most likely leather," Draco rattled off the facts from the file that Hermione hadn't even realized he had in front of him. "Even though you refuse to admit what happened, your friends, a Mr. Harry Potter and his wife, Genevra Potter, claim that this is not the first time that injuries like this have occurred, and have also admitted that injuries more severe than this have taken place in the past, including, but not limited to, broken bones, a bruised jaw, internal bleeding-"

"Enough!" Draco had been so engrossed with the doctor's handwritten notes at the bottom of the chart that he hadn't noticed the tears beginning to trickle down his patient's cheeks, determined to continue until she spoke. "Enough…" This time, Hermione spoke the word in a soft whisper. Draco closed the file and, sliding it under his clipboard, his pen clicked as he sat back in the chair.

"Ready to talk about this?" he asked, handing her a handkerchief from his coat pocket.

Attempting to dry the tears that just wouldn't stop coming, Hermione could only nod.

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**Author's Notes:** That's it for this chapter! Want more? You know what to do!

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	4. Chapter 4

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**Author's Notes:** Hey, **Everbay**, nice to see you still reading, thanks for the encouragement and I'll try to keep it up! That's so much for the compliments, **ShylaMalfoy**, and I'm not sure how long it'll be before they end up together, but I promise it's where I'm heading, eventually! I like to let things unfold. Thanks, **gryffindor at heart**, I'll do my best and thanks, **teralynn**, I know the feeling; there are a couple stories that I can't wait for them to be updated, too… I'm glad mine is one of those, for you!

Thank you, all, again, and on with chapter 4!

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"Whenever you hear women talk about this kind of thing… you know, in movies or books… they always start out saying something like 'Oh, he was so sweet the first few years of our marriage…' and I always think about how lucky they were that they had a few good years before it all started." Hermione sipped at the edge of the Styrofoam cup in her hands. She hadn't set the hot tea down since Draco had gotten it for her and he couldn't help wondering if she continued to hold it in an attempt to disguise the shaking of her hands.

"It wasn't like that for you, then?" he asked, the silver of his pen flashing as he wrote.

"No," she replied, glancing at him once before averting her eyes, again. She could talk about this easily enough as long as she wasn't required to look at him while she spoke. "The day we were married, I had to cover a bruise on my arm with a layer of make-up."

"May I ask why you married him, if he was already abusing you?" Normally, Hermione would have expected an annoyed or exasperated tone to accompany such a question, but Draco's was merely curious. She smiled, wryly.

"It didn't actually seem like abuse at the time, to be honest. Ron was… is… ah… 'sexually adventurous,' I guess I should say…" Hermione stopped long enough to clear her throat and hoped her cheeks weren't as pink as they FELT like they were; it was slightly hard to accept that she was discussing her sex life with Draco Malfoy, of all people, but he didn't seem to notice her discomfort. "He liked to bite and scratch in our early times together… and later he started asking if he could do things to me while I was tied up. I didn't mind at the time, it just seemed fairly normal in terms of exploration."

"Did he ever allow you to tie _him_ up," he wanted to know, scribbling notes here and there on his clipboard.

"No, never. I never asked, but I know he'd have said no, if I did. He liked to be in control. I think that was part of the reason he wanted to do it. It gave him control over _something_, while we had so little control over the other things in our lives during the wars." It was on the tip of Draco's tongue to tell her to leave the psychoanalysis to him, thank you very much, but since she was probably right, he let it go in the interest of moving on.

"Did he ever try to play the disciplinarian with you?" he questioned, resting his elbow on the nightstand next to her bed. At Hermione's slightly blank look, he elaborated. "Did he ever ask or try to spank or whip you?" The light blush staining her cheeks became slightly darker and suddenly her blanket became the most interesting thing in the room to her.

"He asked me once… about spanking. I said o.k., but during it he… he got really rough and I asked him to stop." Her voice was little more than a murmur, but, luckily, Draco was less than 2 feet from her and could make out her words perfectly.

"Did he?"

"…No," she admitted, softly.

"And what happened?" he inquired, again the pen jotting on the lined yellow paper.

"I started to cry," she replied, pushing stray locks of hair behind her ear as she sighed, deeply. "And later he apologized. He said he thought I was playing along. I was pretty bruised from it… he put something on it and made me stay home that day. He didn't want me going to a mediwitch or to work, since I'd have to explain what happened." She glanced at him, quickly and noticed one of his light brows arched at that. "I know it should have been a warning signal, but at the time, it made sense to me… you think I wanted to explain to my co-workers that I couldn't sit down because my husband and I were playing sexual games that had gotten too forceful…?" Draco nodded, thoughtfully.

"Was that when it became rough all the time?" Hermione nodded, slowly.

"Around then, yeah. After that, he claimed that he couldn't… well… you know…" Draco waited while she found the right words; although it was normally his habit to fill in the blanks, his professional opinion was that it wasn't appropriate to place words in the mouths of his patients. "…perform, I guess… unless there was pain involved."

"Pain for you, though, not for him… correct?" he asked, lifting to his pale lips the plain black coffee mug which he'd brought to the office for his personal use. After she had nodded an affirmative answer, again, he posed another question, "When did the abuse become occurrences outside of sexual encounters?"

"About a year before we were married. We were already engaged, and I was mainly in charge of the wedding plans. Ron really hated the whole idea, but he knew it would make me happy, so he asked and I accepted. If I remember right, I had a few female friends over and we were talking about something… dresses or flowers or… whatever. When he came home, he'd brought his supervisor, assuming that I'd have dinner ready and waiting." Hermione bit the corner of her lip, worrying at the delicate skin there. "I thought everything was o.k. I sent the girls home and we went out for dinner, instead. But, after we got home, and his boss had gone, he started yelling at me; calling me a bad wife and all that. I yelled back at him, of course. Stuff about why he didn't think to call me and let me know he was bringing someone home with him, so I could have prepared better. And then he hit me. Not hard, not even hard enough to bruise, more like a tap to get my attention and get me to stop yelling… but he acted shocked that he'd done it and started apologizing, right away, begging me to forgive him." Hermione offered a weak laugh and Draco wondered if she was aware that she'd already reverted back to making excuses for Ron's actions. "I suppose I didn't tell you that I hit him, once, when I was angry. Back during our 6th year at Hogwarts… we'd stopped seeing each other for a few weeks and he accused me of sleeping with Harry." She shook her head in disbelief. "It was ridiculous it even suggest such a thing, of course. Harry was already seeing Ginny and besides that, he was more like a brother to me than anything else. Ron could never really understand that… he had blood siblings and all, but Harry and I were both only children, so it was more natural for the two of us to see each other as surrogate brother and sister. Anyway, Ron suggested that I was easy or something like that, and I slapped him. I slapped him, hard… He forgave me, and we got back together, but I always felt bad about it afterwards."

Draco sighed, inwardly, and recorded a few more things on his handy clipboard before clicking the pen closed and tucking it away in the pocket of his sterile white jacket.

"Mrs. Weasley, I know you to be an intelligent woman, so I'm not going to mince words. I believed you were well on the right track at the beginning of our discussion. You seemed to be willing to realize the danger you were in and the fact that your husband was at fault for that danger. However, as we continued, you lapsed into offering explanations for _why_ he'd done the things he'd done, which is counterproductive. First, you gave him permission to hurt you, then it was your fault he hurt you, then you felt guilty for hurting him, first, and this is your atonement. These are all serious issues that cannot be dealt with in a single session held in your hospital recovery room." Draco held up one pale hand to cut off her sudden outburst of protestation, and continued. "We're done, for today, and if it were my decision, you would have two options at this point. I would either admit you, permanently, to a ward of the hospital specially designed for people who aren't capable of caring for themselves and you would continue to see a therapist of that department OR I would remand you to the custody of Harry and Genevra Potter, provided they agree to the terms of a loose type of probation, meaning that you would continue to see the resident psychiatrist of this hospital." The corner of his mouth tugged up into an almost apologetic smile, and Hermione had the fleeting thought that he might have been enjoying this power over her just a tad too much. "Unfortunately for you, it _is_ my decision, so one of those two options will occur. Fortunately for you, I am offering you your choice. What'll it be, Mrs. Weasley?"

"….But _you're_ the resident psychiatrist, aren't you…?" Hermione asked in a slightly desperate voice.

"That I am," he answered, that old familiar smirk of his still in place, "and you'd be required to meet with me… oh… I suppose every 3 or 4 days would be sufficient."

"Bloody hell," she half-whispered. She was quite properly stuck between a rock and hard place. Her choices were to give up her freedom, completely, and not have to see this git every few days, or regain her freedom and continue to answer truthfully all the embarrassing questions her former nemesis chose to ask! Draco could see she was visibly shaken at her prospects and leaned forward, the smirk disappearing in place of his more professional sincerity.

"It's not as bad as all that, really. Besides, at least if you agreed to your second option, you wouldn't need to retell everything you've already said. The worst is over, isn't it?" he asked. Although Hermione, herself, wasn't as sure as he seemed to be, she nodded, slowly.

"Alright, then. Since they've already offered, after all, I'll stay with Harry and Ginny," she acknowledged.

"And you'll be seeing me at least twice a week?" he pressed, insistently.

"And I'll come and see you _once_ a week," she amended.

"Twice."

"Once."

"_Twice_," he insisted, as his lips tugged into that smirk, again, "Or I go ahead and reserve that room for you in the psycho ward."

"Oh, fine, twice a week!" Hermione glared at him, and Draco had to resist the urge to laugh out loud when presented with the same fierce look he'd been a party to so many times during his school years, though he couldn't hold back the smile. "You may have gotten older, but you're still a bastard, Malfoy." Draco stood, still grinning as he tucked his notepad under his arm. He could honestly say that his numerous years in both muggle and magical schools to get his doctorate in psychiatry would be well worth it, all due to this one patient.

"That's _Doctor_ Malfoy to you, Mrs. Weasley."

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**Author's Notes:** If you enjoyed this and would like more, please let me know. More soon! I hope…

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	5. Chapter 5

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**Author's Notes:** Thanks, **damned for eternity**, I'm glad you liked the line… I thought it worked well for the ending. **Alenor**, thanks, and I hope you keep reading; I haven't decided if I'm even going to have Hermione keep the baby, yet (she'd never give it up, but I've been toying with the idea of a premature birth and/or crib death… call me sadistic, but I haven't decided, yet). **ShylaMalfoy**, thank you and I'll try to keep updating... my muse has apparently been on vacation. **Emma Laraliean**, thanks for being so enthusiastic! You have no idea what that does for me, as a writer. **LyssaTucci**, many thanks and sorry, but I don't think it'll be a fast hook up; I really like to draw things out and really develop character relationships. I swear there's nothing I hate more than reading a story where two people who have always disliked each other suddenly confess love after two paragraphs and mind-blowing sex.

And with that in mind, on with chapter 5!

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The office was gray and slightly dismal looking, reminding her just slightly of the dungeons of Hogwarts. In fact, if Hermione hadn't been quite sure that all of the offices located in this wing of the hospital were the same color, she'd think Draco had painted it this deep, lonely looking shade on purpose. The office was sparsely decorated; a cherry wood desk and three chairs along with a matching credenza were the only pieces of furniture in the room and his walls were graced only with his muggle university diplomas. She knew that, if asked, he could produce the certificates of completion from the wizarding colleges he'd attended that obviously couldn't join those already on the walls due to the fact that he treated members of the non-magical community as well as those from the wizarding world. No plants, no pictures of family or friends, no artwork and seemingly no other personal effects sat anywhere else in the room. As she waited for her doctor (she still couldn't bring herself to think of him as her psychiatrist… it sounded too odd to her ears), she thought about the office she'd had at the ministry before she'd left, so different it had been from his. No less than twelve photographs had hung on the bright walls of her office surrounded by several pieces of artwork that she'd picked out, and three more photos had places of honor on her desk, along with the various knick knacks and office supplies that had littered the desktop. Draco's desk was nearly bare. A metal pencil cup with six identical ballpoint pens (black ink, of course) resting in it, a black multiline telephone, a flat screen computer monitor and a leather bound portfolio were all strategically placed on the smooth, shiny wood. Hermione had to wonder where he kept the rest of his supplies. If she opened the drawers to his desk, would they be as neat, or would they finally be the testament to his humanity, filled to the brim with crumpled papers and messy drawer organizers that never really did their jobs.

She had allowed herself a tiny smile as she wondered how much she could see before being caught when the door behind her opened and Draco stepped into the small office, shutting the door behind her and stepping around the desk to take his seat, there.

"Doctor Malfoy." Hermione inclined her head in greeting as she spoke, rather stiffly.

"Mrs. Weasley." He opened his bottom desk drawer (perfectly neat, much to Hermione's dismay) and pulled her file from it, closing it with his knee as he spread it out on his desk and opened the portfolio to start a new handwritten dictation. "I understand you just came from your obstetrician. She checked up on your back as well?" When she nodded, he continued, "Everything satisfactory? Healing well?"

"Yes. The baby is healthy and the swelling has gone down, considerably. I haven't needed to take the pills they gave me when I checked out," she answered. Draco arched a brow at her over the wire-rimmed glasses he was wearing and she hastily explained herself, "I know, I was supposed to take them for pain, and not refuse them because I thought I deserved to be punished, but I honestly haven't felt more than a twinge when I lay down at night, so I haven't needed them. That's the truth." Draco nodded, thoughtfully.

"Fair enough. How are things working out at the Potter residence?" he asked, resting his elbow on the desk as he scribbled notes on the pad before him.

"Good, except that I'm nearly bored out of my mind. Either Harry or Ginny are around all the time and they won't allow me to help cook or clean or do practically anything around the house. I wish you hadn't spoken to them about me; I'm going stir crazy," she said in an accusatory tone. Draco had to stifle a laugh.

"You can't blame me for that," he assured her, unable to help the smile that had formed, "I told them you had to take it easy; I didn't say to treat you like an invalid. They interpreted the orders how they wanted to." He leaned back in his chair and his tone turned nonchalant. "How did they take it when they found out I was your doctor?" The question Draco had been dying to ask since he'd been there to release Hermione into the Potter's care… Hermione wasn't fooled by the apparent disinterest.

"I'd say it was about the reaction you expected." Draco offered an innocently questioning look, which Hermione completely discounted. "In the car on the way home, Ginny asked if there was a way to get a new doctor… Harry suggested I take the mental ward option." A wry smile accompanied this disclosure and Draco didn't hold back his deep chuckle this time.

"By all rights, you can request another psychiatrist or change your mind about the second option, Mrs. Weasley," Draco admitted, still amused when he thought of the look on Potter's face when he'd realized who, exactly, it was escorting Hermione to the waiting area. Harry had practically sputtered in indignation while his wife could only stare as if she couldn't believe Draco was still among the living after disappearing for so long after graduation. That, alone, had been worth the years of studying.

"I can? Get a new doctor, I mean, not change my mind about the mental ward…" The surprise was evident in her voice and Draco nodded, solemnly.

"If it's what you want, I can sign off on a transfer request form today, but I have to meet with the reassigned physician to discuss your case before you meet with him or her." As he spoke, Draco was already pulling the form from a file folder in the same drawer that her case folder had been in.

"Meet with them…?" she repeated as she considered what that would mean. Just as Draco had mentioned, before, she'd probably have to retell the new doctor everything that she'd already told him. All the embarrassing things that she'd related would have to be brought up all over again… was it worth reliving over and over merely because she wasn't able to see an old schoolmate in a professional setting? Hermione's eyes lifted to the man before her and she assessed what she saw as he started filling out the form for her. He'd eventually switched to ignoring her and her friends during their school years, for reasons beyond her knowledge, and he'd reverted to a rather quiet young man by the time they'd left Hogwarts, with barely a word of farewell spoken between himself and anyone not belonging to Slytherin. He was definitely an enigma, now.

"Dr. Malfoy, can I ask you something?" He glanced up, his writing momentarily ceased as he waited. "Why did you become a psychiatrist?"

"Why did I…?" The question caught him vaguely off guard and he sat back in his chair to mull over what, or rather how much, to tell her. Lying to her wouldn't do; part of his loyalty to his profession dictated that there would always be truth between his patients and himself, but then none of them had ever bothered to ask why he'd become a doctor. "If you really must know, Professor Snape suggested it." A slow grin spread over Hermione's features.

"Professor _Snape_ suggested that _you_ take up a profession _helping_ people…?" she asked, punctuating the statement with muffled giggles as she tried to imagine what could have been running through the professor's head when he'd recommended such a thing. Draco was more that a little indignant.

"You could at least wait for the explanation before breaking into hysterics," he muttered, stoically. That sent her full into her laugher; Draco was sounding more and more like himself. When she finally calmed, despite the smile that remained, she gestured for him to continue.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it… it just sounds so odd to me," she offered, still trying to contain her amusement.

"Mrs. Weasley, think about our first meeting. I had you talking about what happened to you within twenty minutes of meeting you." That wiped the lasting smile from her face. "You're getting the gist of it, I see… I happen to be excellent at manipulating people, and that's exactly what I do as a psychiatrist, even though I'm actually helping the people I manipulate. I deliberately lead people where they don't want to go, to get them to understand what's going on in their heads." He rested his pen down on the half-filled form and clasped his hands over it. "You can let yourself think I'm helping people if it makes our relationship as doctor and patient smoother, but do not ever mistake me for the white knight out to rescue the helpless in distress. I control people, Mrs. Weasley, and I enjoy doing it, or I wouldn't have made a career out of it."

Hermione was silent, keeping her eyes lowered as she processed the information he'd given her. White knight, indeed… and what with all the talking they'd been doing, she'd actually begun to think he might've been a nice person after all this time.

She'd certainly never make _that_ mistake again.

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**Author's Notes:** Is there some sort of stigmata attached to me where I can only manage an average of five reviews per chapter…? Ah, well. Review. I like them and I already have the next chapter written out in my head, so motivation will get it on paper and posted faster.

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	6. Chapter 6

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**Author's Notes:** Wow, do I owe some serious apologies. Let's start with my groveling for not doing a single thing with this story in nearly 2 years. If any of you are still out there, I grovel and beg your forgiveness…

A few other things. I had to post updated documents for chapters 2, 3, 4 and 5. The update to 2 was an age change. Hermione is no longer 23, but 28. I did this in light of a few things, but most notably the idea that I wanted Hermione and Ron's relationship to have been longer than I originally planned. The changes to 3 and 4 had to do with a bit of information (concerning Ginny Weasley's given name) which hadn't yet been revealed when I started writing this, oh so many years ago, and the change to 5 was purely aesthetic (I doubt anyone will even notice it; kudos if you do).

And now for the multitude of thanks I owe: **tinydancer69**, thank you so much for the encouragement. **LirielOrigamasa**, I'm sorry you've had to wait so long and thank you for the kind words. **LyssaTucci**, thank you, I'm glad you're still enjoying it and I appreciate your multiple reviews; they keep me going. **Alenor**, thank you for the motivation… I'm sorry it took so long to take effect! Thanks for the review, **Frizance**; I hope you keep reading. **YAMC**, here's your chapter; I'm sorry I had to have your second review removed, but it contained foul language, and I'm just not into that. **Xxcrimson**, thanks for pointing that out; honestly I started writing this before anyone knew that, so I'm lucky these chapters are easy to update! Thanks for the review, as well!

I hope that at least a few of you are still out there and will see this update, because I'm writing for you. I even wrote an extra-long chapter for you. On with chapter 6!

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Hermione rubbed the side of her rather large belly, absently, as she waited, restlessly, on the wooden bench at the end of Diagon Alley, near the entrance to a non-descript robe shop. In her other hand, she held a hardcover book that looked to be brand new, and she glanced up intermittently to look down the alleyway before returning her gaze to the page she was reading. To be perfectly honest, she had to keep processing the same sentence over and over, because she really was too excited to pay attention.

Today, she was getting a wand. Her first wand since she'd put her own away after a discussion she and her husband had had regarding some of the ways they could make each other more comfortable in their relationship, several years ago. He'd agreed to let her keep her new position (which had put her above him, in a supervisory capacity, but didn't necessarily _require_ magic) if she'd acknowledge that her magic made him feel inferior to her at times. It had been no secret, either in school of afterwards, that she'd been more proficient in their magical studies, but she was used to living without it and since the wars were over, what harm would it do to agree? It hadn't been until recently that she realized how helpless being without her wand had made her feel. She had to wonder, now, if that had been Ron's ultimate motive. It would've been considerably more difficult to abuse someone who held a wand on him… then she frowned, wondering if she'd have actually held the wand on him, even if she'd had it.

It had been three weeks since she'd seen him. Three weeks since she'd spent three nights in the hospital after Ron's latest tantrum. Three weeks since she'd started seeing Draco Malfoy, three times a week. Originally, they'd agreed that she'd see him twice a week, but after the first couple of days, the nightmares had returned. Hermione was generally a level-headed person and there weren't many who could honestly say they'd ever seen her lose control of herself. As a result of constantly being in control, any time her stress levels built up, she had nightmares. She'd had them during her school years around exam season, during the war, when she and Ron had their fights and again after her parents were killed. When Draco had asked her how she was doing those first few sessions, she'd been honest about the nightmares and he'd explained to her that, in her case, the nightmares were probably a sign of her fear of being helpless. She couldn't deny that. He'd then suggested that they either extend their sessions or meet one more time a week to help her work through this new addition to the situation. She doubted he'd have taken no for an answer and finally decided that, since she had little to do at the Potter residence, anyway, she may as well meet him three times a week, instead of their originally decided upon two.

At their last session, the topic of her nightmares had come up, again. He'd asked her what types of things made her feel strong and in control, and she'd promptly answered that her knowledge of magic and the fact that she could help, even protect, people with it, was probably the most empowering thing she knew of. That had led him to the enigmatic question of where her wand was and why she didn't carry it with her. Since she didn't want to return to her home to get her own wand (and, to be perfectly honest, she wasn't even sure if Ron would give it to her), Draco was vehement that their session, today, begin here, in the Alley.

She was in the middle of the same page, yet again, when she felt, more than heard, Draco lean his arms on the back of the bench beside her, to read over her shoulder.

"_Be aware that although it isn't necessarily gone, the return to a considerable base of power can be frightening and somewhat overwhelming depending on the level of your previous knowledge and the amount of time away from said power base…_ What in Merlin's name are you reading…?" Without further comment, he lifted the book from her hands and turned it over to read the cover. "Returning to Magic After a Significant Absence…? Where do you get this stuff?" he asked, with no small amount of amusement.

"Flourish and Bott's, of course," she said, taking the book back from him and tucking it into the small shoulder bag she was carrying. Carefully, she pushed herself up from the bench and then pointedly glanced at her watch. "You're late, Dr. Malfoy. I needed something to do while I waited." Glancing at his own watch, he looked slightly indignant.

"It's only a few minutes past the hour!" One of her brows arched in response.

"And which hour would that be?" she questioned. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her exactly which hour when it dawned on him.

"We agreed to meet an hour early, today…" he started.

"…because you wanted to catch Mr. Olivander before he left for lunch," she finished.

"Mrs. Weasley, I am terribly sorry. We made the time change and I didn't write it down on my schedule, so I still had you listed for 12 PM…"

"It's no problem. I kept myself occupied," she indicated her bag, "and met several people I hadn't seen in quite some time, although I must admit I'm terribly anxious to get my new wand. I nearly went without you after the first half hour had gone by."

"Well, I'm glad you waited for me and I suppose I'll owe you a meal since you missed yours in order to wait here for me, for an hour." He guided her towards the wand shop, still annoyed with himself for having kept a patient waiting for what he considered a pretty important appointment. "We'll check to see if he's gone, yet, and if we don't catch him, then we'll eat, first."

"I'm certainly not going to turn it down. I seem to be starving all the time, now." Hermione rubbed her belly, again, absently, as they wandered towards their destination.

"Only a week left, isn't that right?" he asked as they walked, clasping his hands behind his back. Hermione figured it was to keep them occupied, since he didn't seem to know what to do with his hands during their discussions unless he was writing things down, and he couldn't have felt comfortable trying to walk and record their session at the same time. Glancing ahead, again, she nodded and sighed.

"And it can't come too soon, as far as I'm concerned. This hasn't been the easiest pregnancy."

"In more than one aspect, I imagine… What are you planning to do after the baby's born?" he inquired, slowly. This was a tough question, and one he hadn't asked until now, for reason's pertaining to her husband. Once the child was born, he'd have legal rights to see it, spend time with it, and thus spend time with her, unless she planned on leaving the baby with him. He needed to make sure he made a note in her file to discuss this with her, before the baby came, to make sure she had no overreaching plans of letting him back into her life once she was bound by the law to see him.

"Assuming that my doctor consents to my leaving Harry and Ginny's home, I planned on contacting my supervisor at the Ministry to see if a job would be available for me and hiring a nanny to care for the baby. There are flats near here that I can rent for a reasonable price and when the baby gets a little older and I'm more financially sound, I can see about purchasing a place for us." At first he smirked at her mention of him and then nodded, agreeably.

"Sounds like you have it fairly well thought out." He was slightly impressed with her forethought. She smiled and shrugged one shoulder, lightly.

"You sound as though I'm known for being impulsive," she returned, wryly, as she stopped in front of the wand shop. He chuckled, resting his hand on the doorknob of the small store.

"We'll discuss your impulsiveness at length over lunch, but, for now, let's get your wand," he quipped as he pushed the door open for her and bowed, slightly, "after you."

The bell over the door of the wand shop tinkled, lightly, as Draco shut the door behind them, and Mr. Olivander greeted them from beyond the shabby high counter. Hermione had a wand in her hand, in no time, although it had taken a few to get it just right. As an adult, she didn't even need to wave the wand for the proprietor of the shop to know it wasn't the correct one for her, although there was one early on in the process that seemed to 'like' her, but to which Mr. Olivander swore she didn't belong to. Finally, he wrapped up the package that contained her brand new wand and handed it to her in return for the wizarding money she'd exchanged just this afternoon.

As she stepped away from the counter, she glanced inside the bag she held and stopped, abruptly, turning back to the owner, curiously.

"Mr. Olivander… there are two boxes in here; I only bought one wand." She picked the smaller box out and lifted the lid to reveal the wand that had seemed to click, slightly, with her, but which the wand maker had claimed wasn't hers. Said wand maker glanced at her over his wire spectacles, now, and grinned.

"That one isn't for you, miss. It's for the little one," he cackled, indicating her rounded belly. "Have a feeling you'll be needing that, soon enough." Surprised, Hermione could barely murmur a thank you in reply before Draco led her back out on to the cobblestone street of Diagon Ally. Nearly a block down, she was still wondering over the experience as Draco chatted on about a nice café that was only a few more blocks away, where they could enjoy a decent meal for the next hour or so, when she stopped, short, pressing a firm hand to the side of her stomach.

"Mrs. Weasley…?" Draco asked, concerned at her sudden halt and the look of slight surprise that had crossed over her features. "Hermione…? Is something wrong…?" Hermione was silent a minute before taking a deep breath and straightening up from the hunch that she'd been in.

"I think I may have to take a rain check on that meal, Dr. Malfoy," she stated, more calmly than she, herself, thought possible.

"A rain check…?" Hermione nodded.

"I've been getting little twinges all morning that I thought were just indigestion, but that was most definitely a contraction… I think I'm in labor."

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**Author's Notes:** All of you know how much I enjoy these little endings. Again, I apologize profusely for taking so long and I promise I'll try not to take so long with the next one… We get to meet the baby, next time… what shall I name him or her? And, for that matter, should it _be_ a him or a her…? Review and receive!

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